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Taly swallowed. “Hello, Bill.”

Chapter 67

Calcifer hissed, his tail lashing.

Aneirin’s gaze flicked to the mimic. “We won’t be needing you.” He snapped his fingers. A rift split the air beside Calcifer, and with a startled yowl, he vanished—sucked into the dark like smoke into a vacuum.

“There,” he said smoothly. “Now we can talk without interruptions.”

Taly stared at the space where Calcifer had been, her breath snagging in her chest. The air still crackled with the echo of the portal’s snap.

She hadn’t even had time to reach for him.

Aneirin ran a hand down the front of his borrowed body. “You’ll have to forgive me for wearing the same suit twice. Bit of a fashion faux pas, I’m aware. But you did such a marvelous job with the repair, and he was always a favorite.”

Over the weeks, Kalahad had been making slow progress. Blood infusions sustained him, but slowly, gradually, his body had begun producing its own aether again. The marks on his skin had faded. He was healing.

Now, those same marks had returned—black veins snaking up from beneath his collar like ink spilled through his bloodstream.

A tremor shivered through her. And a realization.

What looked like a Curse but wasn’t?

What had he left behind on every Fey body he possessed?

“It’s camouflage,” Taly whispered. “That’s why you needed the Curse. So, you could move through the city.”

The rash, the symptoms, the way it crept through their veins like a damn horror show—it mimicked possession.

Aneirin had flooded the city with sickness, concealing his presence among the genuinely ill. Hiding his movements in plain sight while they scrambled to contain the outbreak.

Kalahad clapped. Slowly. “By the Magnus and the Mother, give the girl aprize,” he drawled, smiling. An easy, natural expression she’d never seen on any of his other bodies. As if he’d had time to learn the intricacies of this specific face.

The thought struck her like a lightning—how many times had she been near him?

And that question sent her spiraling into a dozen more. Had she ever sat by his bedside, dabbing sweat from his fevered brow? He could’ve been any one of her assignments at the healing park.

Had she fetched him a blanket? Changed his poultices? Fluffed his Shards-damned pillow?

Aneirin chuckled, leaning back on his throne. “Don’t beat yourself up, dearie. You’re guilty of the same sin as that bitch behind you.Pride. The unshakeable faith that your miraculous Sight will put an end to all evil. That you knowbest. But the truth is that we’re all fallible—humans, Fey, and gods alike.”

He was between her and the main door, but there was a side entrance the priestesses used to come and go.

Taly took a slow step back—toward the altar—trying to make it look natural. More restless pacing than deliberate retreat.

Aneirin regarded her. “What did she offer you?” he asked with lethal quiet. “What pretty lies did she tell?”

One hand drifting to the pistol holstered beneath her skirts, Taly took another slow, careful step. “You’re not making any sense.”

He snarled and slammed a fist on the arm of the throne, the sound echoing. “Do notlieto me, girl. Not when I caught you red-handed, whispering at her feet like a good little disciple.”

“I’m not lying,” Taly said, still edging forward. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Ineverhave any idea what you’re talking about.”

Blue eyes narrowed in genuine curiosity. He tilted his head. “You’re telling the truth,” he murmured. “So, then you truly…” A huff, then a cackling laugh burst out of him. His face lit up with savage delight. “Oh my,this—this is a new low. She must be desperate indeed if she’s resorted to preying on innocents.”

A blast of cold rushed toward her, and then Aneirin was right there, leaning over so they were nose-to-nose. She hadn’t even seen him rise. He’d moved in a blink.

“Please, allow me to apologize,” he said. “I just assumed you’d already been informed—”